


Path of Totality

by Omni



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Beta Derek Hale, Bottom Derek, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Present Tense, bottom!Derek, canon divergence - post season 2, mentions of past derek hale/omc, mentions of past stiles stilinski/ofc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omni/pseuds/Omni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wants Stiles, and finally he knows that Stiles wants him, too.  The only problem is that Stiles is already taken, and Derek refuses to be That Guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Path of Totality

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be darker and angstier than it turned out to be. Mostly because I can't stomach writing either of them actively cheating on anyone, so instead you get something that devolves into smoopy love-love and happy endings. Yay.

Stiles is watching him, watching his lips as he explains the difference between ghouls and ghuls, and his hands as he spreads them across the maps. It isn’t the first time he's watched Derek, neither is it the first time that the scent of want poured off of him while doing so. Derek glances to the other side of the room, where Stiles' girlfriend is correcting Boyd's stance. Bethanie is a werewolf from a pack that was wiped out, much like Derek's, only the hunters had gassed them with wolfsbane instead of burn them. She's not an official member of the Pack, but it's something that Derek and Scott have discussed. 

Sliding around the table, Stiles presses in at Derek's side to presumably point out an area he missed in his explanation. He's warm and smells so damn tempting, and Derek glances again at Bethanie. Stiles needs to stop this, needs to back off at the very least. Derek's surprised that Bethanie hasn't already picked up on the change in Stiles' heartbeat, the distinctive shift in his scent. Scott's noticed from the other side of the table, eyes darting between his best friend and his Second. Ever since he mastered the art of scenting, Scott has always noticed. Derek wonders if Stiles ever talks about it with Scott, ever over-shares during their bro time or asks for advice. 

"This is the last place we saw it, actually," Stiles is explaining, reaching across Derek to point. They're practically existing in the same space by this point. 

Lydia is indifferent to it as she nods along with what Stiles says and flicks her gaze around the map as if she can determine where the ghul will go next. Maybe she can. Maybe she hears the dead whispering to her, telling her where to find the thing that's been feasting on their remains. Derek spares a moment to wonder--as he often does, when he really stops to think about it--if Lydia hears any voices that Derek would find familiar.

Stiles frowns at him, wraps his fingers around Derek's upper arm. "You slipped away for a moment," he says softly, obviously concerned. 

Derek shakes his head, mutters "It's nothing," then makes himself pull away and create space between them. 

Across the room, Boyd has managed to throw Bethanie, and she woops in congratulations. Erica golf claps while Jackson laughs and Isaac mocks that Boyd took twice as long as he did. Maybe its just that she's been too distracted, Derek reasons, and that's why she never notices. Since she followed Stiles back from college, she'd offered her services in training the Pack in hand-to-hand, so she was usually busy during meetings. The planning aspects weren't for her, anyway.

Just as Stiles looks like he's going to close what distance Derek managed to obtain, Lydia smacks a hand down onto the map. "There," she says, looking up at them with determination blazing in her eyes. "We'll find it there." On that map, it looks like just some random wooded area, but Derek remembers that place from when he went running and exploring as a kid. There was a very old graveyard tucked away in those woods, with markers dating back to the Gold Rush. 

Derek walks around the table, away from Stiles and closer to where Lydia had indicated. "I can believe that," he affirms softly, and Lydia sends him a weak, thankful smile. Looking up to Scott, he says, "Some of us should check it out while it's still daylight, see if any of the graves have been disturbed lately."

Scott nods and looks around the room, calculating who should stay and who should go. Derek volunteers, needing to get out of that room and away from Stiles, away from his scent. Nodding, Scott adds, "Take Isaac and Lydia."

"We should pick up Allison on the way," Lydia suggests. "She and Chris were supposed to be returning this afternoon." Scott agrees, making Lydia smile that special smile reserved just for her real friends.

"I'll come, too," Stiles offers, already looking around for where he tossed his hoodie. 

"No." Derek hadn't meant to snap the word so forcefully, but suddenly everyone is staring at him. Even the betas on the other side of the room pause in their training to practically gape. He doesn't apologize or offer excuses, though; simply motions for Isaac to follow, and strides out with him and Lydia scurrying to catch up. 

\---

Lydia finds the plot in which the ghul is hiding, and Isaac and Derek dig it up in short order. Allison handles the actual dispatching of the thing, since it involves fire. Derek stays upwind and turned away, surveying the forest around them as if watching for another ghul. All-in-all, it feels very anticlimactic, almost routine. Then again, the Pack’s been handling things like this for nearly a decade, so he supposes it really is just routine at this point.

While Lydia texts Scott the details, Isaac disposes of the remains and Derek and Allison walk a perimeter to double-check that no one--human or otherwise--had wandered by and saw more than they should. They had learned the hard way the necessity of such a check. Allison is taking in the forest to the best of her human abilities, running nimble fingers along broken branches to feel out how fresh they are, scanning the fallen leaves to see if they’ve been recently disturbed. Beside her, Derek is listening and scenting, head cocking one way and then another, trying to catch the breeze and pick out each smell. 

“You should say something to him,” Allison says out of nowhere, kneeling down to study a footprint that Derek can scent as old without needing to approach. 

He pretends to be ignorant, turning slightly away and pointedly sniffing the air. “Who?”

“Stiles,” she says, not one to dance around a subject. Not anymore. Time has melted the sugar coating from her and left her as something sharp as the knives she carries. “Bethanie came over before Dad and I left Wednesday, needing to talk ‘girl-to-girl’ about why her boyfriend seems to keep blowing her off. She’s worried that he’s cheating on her.” At that, Allison stands and turns a hard look on Derek. “He’s not, though. Right?”

He feels his hackles rise, like an unbearable itch under his skin. “Not with _me_ , if that’s what you’re implying.”

She seems to relax a little at that, taking him at his word. He wonders when exactly that happened. Probably five years ago, when the baby crying in the woods hadn’t been a baby at all. They had viewed each other differently by the end of that shitstorm, no longer as wary of each other as they had been.

They continue walking, and she bites her lip for a second before turning away from her vigilant scanning in order to look at him. “Do you know why he’s being like this?”

For a moment, he’s tempted to lie, but they’re beyond that. “I have some idea, yeah.” It’s a safe response. He ignores the little voice in his head that whispers _cowardly_. 

“I don’t suppose you feel up to elaborating on that?”

“We never did anything,” he says, hoping that’s enough to get her off his case. 

He should have known better. “But something happened.” She goes back to scouting, but continues darting him pointed little glances.

“It was before Bethanie,” he concedes, knowing it would be hopeless to try to evade her. “He walked into the loft without knocking-”

“When does he _ever_ knock?”

“-and saw me with someone.”

Allison’s brows crinkle together, and she presses her thumb to a scuff on a tree. “I don’t see how that would make him act the way he does now.”

“It was Jared.” Not many know about Jared. Only Allison and Boyd, because they were there when Derek met him. Jared wasn’t anyone special, not someone Derek ever really dated. But, he bore a striking resemblance to Stiles. Boyd’s expression had gone slack with knowing as soon as he saw Derek do the double-take. Allison had pretended not to know exactly why Derek had actually been friendly and borderline flirtatious with the guy. It was obvious in the way she diverted her gaze and her cheeks heated that she knew, though, and was simply embarrassed on Derek’s behalf. As if he wasn’t ashamed enough. 

She looks like she wants to ask something else, her brow still not smoothed, but she just presses her lips tightly together and goes back to inspecting the woods alongside him. Derek's thankful that she doesn't ask for details or elaboration. 

It doesn't stop him from thinking about it, from reliving that moment in his mind. His lips stretched taut around a warm dick. Stiles watching him with wide, bright eyes, mouth open and breaths thin and shaky. Derek hadn't stopped, and Stiles hadn't closed the door and left. Jared never even knew they were being watched, that Derek was pinning Stiles with his eyes, giving him all of his attention even as he coaxed grunts and cries from Jared's throat.

"Why didn't you two just get together?" Allison asks, drawing him back from his memories. They've nearly completed the circuit. He can hear Lydia and Isaac arguing about what happened last episode on some TV show. 

Derek doesn't have an answer to her question, so he just shrugs and glares at the forest floor. At the time, he had thought it was simply because Stiles was still in college, only in Beacon Hills during breaks. He’d thought that perhaps Stiles just didn’t want to do a long distance relationship. And so, Derek hadn’t even contacted Jared since that day, contenting himself to wait it out until Stiles was back for good.

He just hadn’t expected Bethanie to return with Stiles, announcing that he’d invited her to come and live permanently in their territory. 

Permanently.

It’s strange, though, that Stiles rarely spends time with Bethanie outside of pack meetings. Often times Derek wonders if Stiles fully understands the implications of asking his girlfriend to potentially become Pack. 

\---

Derek tries to put it out of mind, just as he always does. Thankfully, there are no supernatural disasters for a while, and he’s able to avoid too much interaction with either Stiles or Bethanie. He really should have known better than to think it would be that easy, however.

Stiles is in his loft waiting for him on a Friday night after Derek had been out helping Jackson pick out a ring for Lydia. Already Derek’s feeling a mix of longing and loss after an entire afternoon of listening to Jackson quietly murmur about how much Lydia will love this or that style, how she deserves something like this one here but would look amazing with this other one. The last thing Derek needs is to come home to find Stiles sitting on his spiral staircase, long hands dangling dejectedly between his knees and eyes reflecting a darkness that echoes Derek’s own. 

“I don’t get it,” Stiles says instead of a proper greeting. He makes no move to stand, just looks up at Derek, eyes glinting suspiciously wet in the bare bulb light. “Was I wrong?”

Derek finishes sliding the heavy door shut and reluctantly walks closer to give Stiles his full attention. “Wrong about what?” he prompts, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture orchestrated to seem aggressive. 

Gaze flicking over Derek as if searching for something, Stiles says, “I thought you…” He waves a limp, lifeless hand between himself and Derek. “I thought this was mutual.”

A sickness slithers up from Derek’s stomach to his throat, and he swallows to restrain it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Stiles flicks a glance over to the support pillar Derek had had Jared pressed against when Stiles had walked in on them so many months ago. “Maybe you don’t,” he relents, shoulders slumping even more than they already had been. 

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” Derek says quietly, the words feeling like broken glass in his mouth, “but you’re mistaken.”

After a few seconds of silent thought, Stiles nods his head and swings himself up to his feet. He walks down the last couple steps of the stairs and strolls up to Derek. “I figured,” he says with something that is probably supposed to be a laugh. “I mean, why would someone like you be interested in someone like _me_ , right?” Stiles’ smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and Derek feels himself step closer. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek spits, angrier than he means. “You’re more than I deserve.”

Stiles literally stops breathing. It almost makes Derek worry, until Stiles starts back again with a huge, heaving breath. His heart is racing like it does whenever he’s being chased by monsters, and it makes Derek feel reflexively protective. “I don’t understand,” whispers Stiles, eyes pleading for an explanation even as his face tries to look hard and angry. 

“Bethanie,” Derek answers simply. 

It only serves to make Stiles look more confused. “What about her? She has nothing to do with-” His eyes go wide and he stumbles back. All of the color drains from Stiles’ face, and he looks away as he blinks quickly. “You want Bethanie?”

“What?” It’s Derek’s turn to be confused. “What are you talking about?”

Stiles looks at him with eyebrows pinched and jaw slack. “Me? Wait, what are _you_ talking about?”

Releasing a deep sigh, Derek hates Stiles for making him say it. “I don’t want to be with you while you’re with someone else.”

“While I’m… Seriously, _what_?”

“Bethanie, Stiles. Your girlfriend. Hell, the woman who’s practically your _fiancee_.”

Looking ill, Stiles staggers in place as if the ground is shifting beneath his feet. “What the fuck are you _talking about_?” He seems to collect himself, though still looks a bit green. “She and I fooled around a little in college, sure, but we were only ever friends. When I asked her to come back here after graduation, it was because I didn’t like the thought of my _friend_ being a lost and lonely omega.”

“What.” Derek shakes his head, trying to fit these new pieces into the picture he’d had in his mind. “Then why was she talking to Allison about how she thinks you’re cheating on her?”

“ _What_?” That makes Stiles’ nose flare and his jaw tighten. An anger washes over him, tensing his frame and bringing a flush high on his cheeks. “I have to go.” He’s three steps from the door before he quickly spins around and rushes up to Derek to press a fast, hard kiss to his lips. “I’ll be back, though. Don’t fucking leave. We’re settling this bullshit tonight.”

Stiles is gone in a flash, leaving Derek standing there in stunned silence with tingling lips. Derek sweeps his tongue along them, chasing after a hint of Stiles’ taste. Mind whirling, Derek doesn’t really know what to feel in that moment. Hope wants to be the predominant emotion, but doubt oozes over and around it, pulling it deep down where it can barely be heard.

\---

The sound of the door sliding open and closed with a jarring slam startles Derek awake. Squinting at the clock on his nightstand, he sees it’s nearly midnight, and he’d only been asleep for maybe forty minutes. He can hear Stiles’ thudding steps ringing against the wrought iron staircase, and he slowly pulls himself into a sitting position on his bed. 

“There,” Stiles announces as soon as he’s on the platform housing Derek’s room. “It’s all cleared up.” He’s panting and slumped forward a little as he tries to catch his breath. No lights are on in the loft, leaving only the bluish light of the waning moon outside the wall of windows to illuminate the man. 

But Derek doesn’t need much light, his eyes flashing bright blue as he looks at Stiles. “What are you talking about?” Derek asks groggily, rubbing a hand over his face, fingers digging at his closed eyelids. 

“With Bethanie. I made things clear.” Stiles walk-stumbles to the bed and kneels on the end of it without invitation. His sneakers clunk to the floor behind him, and then he walks on his knees a little further onto the bed. 

Derek watches him with some trepidation, even as he admires the way the moonlight caresses along Stiles’ features and ignites his eyes. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Derek reiterates with a growling grumble.

Pausing in his knee-walking, Stiles licks his lips and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “It was a mistake. Like, she was mistaken. You _all_ were. Like I said, she was just a friend I wanted to see find a pack and be happy. I never had any romantic feelings for her. Not even when we screwed around. And we did that before I saw you--um--before.” He looks at Derek from across the bed, then seems to realize how presumptuous it was of him to just climb onto the bed like that. With a sharp clearing of his throat, Stiles shuffles back towards the edge. 

“Wait,” calls Derek softly, one arm stretching out a little on the bedspread towards Stiles. “You’re saying you and Bethanie aren’t together?”

“We never were, really.” Stiles moves closer again, his jeans scraping loudly against the covers as he slides and shifts. “Was,” he pauses and licks his lips again, making them gleam in the dim light. “Was that the only thing stopping you? The only reason you kept pushing me away?”

In answer, Derek reaches out and hooks his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck to reel him closer. Stiles ends up falling half on top of Derek and elbowing him in the stomach, but Derek doesn’t mind. Mouths scrape against jaws before finding each other, but then it’s all wet heat and nipping teeth and swallowed up groans. 

Part of Derek knows that he should ask how the conversation with Bethanie went, if the girl was alright, if their friendship had survived such a colossal misunderstanding. Tomorrow, he promises that part of himself. He’ll ask all those things and more tomorrow. For now, he just wants to revel in finally getting the man he’s wanted for years. The man he…

“This,” Derek pants against Stiles’ mouth, “this isn’t like it was with Bethanie, right?” He’ll take what he can get, if that’s all this is, but Derek knows it will kill him with every kiss. 

Stiles draws back to look Derek in the eye as much as he can in the near darkness. “You think this is just about me wanting to fuck around with you?” 

Derek shrugs and resists the temptation to lower his gaze. Stiles really is too goddamn gorgeous, and it isn’t fair how much the moonlight loves him. “I don’t know. I don’t have any idea what this means to you.”

The air around Derek feels cold when Stiles shifts back to sit on his heels. “How could you not know how much I want you?” As if realizing that his words didn’t exactly confirm it’s anything other than lust, Stiles bites his lip and ducks his head. “Want to be _with_ you. In every way.” Stiles looks at Derek through his lashes, head still lowered, and the sight makes Derek ache. “If that’s what you want?”

If he’s brave enough to face down death on a regular basis, Derek feels he’s brave enough to say what he needs to say. Pulling Stiles in by the front of his shirt, Derek bumps their noses together and whispers, “I’m in love with you.”

In the next moment, he finds his arms full of wriggling, eager Stiles. Somehow--and Derek can’t determine how--Stiles loses his shirt despite it feeling like his hands never once leave Derek’s torso. Not that Derek will complain, since it gives him more space to caress and makes the air smell that much more like Stiles. 

“Can I- Can we-” Stiles gasps out, seemingly unable to finish his sentences. He glances down to his jeans and then back up to Derek’s face. 

Derek nearly tears the denim as he pulls free the button, and he forces himself to move more gently as he tugs down the zipper. Then Stiles is shimmying out of his pants, kneeing and smacking into Derek beneath him in the process. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes quickly, tossing jeans and boxers off to the side somewhere. They smack against something in the shadows and knock whatever it is to the ground with a clatter. “Sorry about that, too.”

Shaking his head with a snort, Derek kicks down the blankets and pulls Stiles down on top of him. “It’s fine.” 

“ _Yeah_ , you are,” says Stiles with a leering grin and pointed roll of his hips. “You always sleep in the buff, or were you just anticipating my return?”

He pulls Stiles in for a kiss, smiling against his lips. This time Derek’s the one rolling his hips, and he happily licks away at Stiles’ resultant gasp. Wrapping his arms and legs around Stiles, Derek rolls them so that their positions are reversed. Then his mouth kisses down Stiles’ chin, his long, arching throat. Derek runs the tip of his tongue teasingly along Stiles’  
collarbones, then nibbles softly down to his nipples. That makes Stiles arch his back with the fluidity of a rolling wave, and Derek moans against the nub of flesh between his lips.

“I was so fucking jealous,” Stiles confesses, breathless and deep, words vibrating against Derek’s mouth as he continues to kiss and lick and nip. “That day, when I saw you with...whoever that was.”

“You don’t need to be jealous,” Derek assures, lips brushing along Stiles’ trembling stomach. 

Long fingers comb through Derek’s hair, blunt nails scraping against his scalp. “But I was. Am, to be honest.”

God, Stiles smells perfect down there. Derek inhales him deeply, rubbing his nose down along his sharp hipbone. “I wanted it to be you.” Stiles tastes even better than he smells. Christ but he tastes better than anything Derek has ever experienced. 

Stiles makes choked-off sounds that melt into whimpers, and his hips twitch as if he’s fighting against the natural urge to thrust. Placing a hand on Stiles’ hip, Derek directs him to go ahead and do it. “ _Jesus_ ,” Stiles gasps as he complies, fucking into Derek’s throat. His fingers grip Derek’s hair tighter, and the sting of it makes Derek groan in approval.

Just as Stiles’ thrusts start to quicken, Derek pulls off and crawls back up that long, lithe body to kiss him. “How about you get something what’s-his-face didn’t?” Derek asks between kisses, rocking so his dick slides teasingly along Stiles’ spit-slick one. 

“Oh yeah?” Stiles pants out, hands running restlessly along Derek’s back. “And what might that be?”

Grinning, Derek reaches back and takes one of Stiles’ hands, redirecting it lower. It takes a moment for the implication to sink in, but then Stiles is cursing and sliding eager fingers between Derek’s cheeks. “Only if you want to,” says Stiles, voice so rough it sounds like _he_ was the one getting his throat fucked raw.

“Trust me,” murmurs Derek with a kiss to Stiles’ lips and his ass pressing back against Stiles’ fingers. “I want to.”

When they get the lube out of Derek’s nightstand, they work together to open him up. Derek straddles Stiles and reaches behind himself, sliding slickened fingers in alongside Stiles’ own. Stiles is looking up at him with wide-eyed wonder, kiss-reddened lips parted and chest heaving. He’s beautiful. So beautiful it almost hurts Derek to look at him. But he wants to see Stiles, wants to watch every emotion written out on that expressive face. 

As Derek eases himself down onto Stiles’ dick, it looks like Stiles is on the verge of tears. “It’s the same for me, you know,” Stiles chokes out, petting and stroking every part of Derek he can reach. “You gotta know that.”

Derek nods and rocks his hips, fucking himself gently on Stiles. It’s been a while, and the burn is taking a moment to fully pass.

Brow wrinkled in concern, Stiles grips tightly at Derek’s hips to still him and get his full attention. “It’s true. I’m sorry you thought I was with Bethanie. If I’d have known…”

“Shut up.” Despite Stiles’ grip, Derek lifts his hips and slams back down. The burn gives way to sweet, maddening pleasure. “We went over this. No more talking right now.”

“But I want you to know!”

“I know.” Derek caresses Stiles’ cheek, fingertips brushing his sweat-damp hair. 

“It’s just...for so long…” Stiles suddenly surges up, wrapping his arms tightly around Derek and kissing him. “I never thought I’d have this with you,” is his hushed, broken confession. 

Derek kisses him until Stiles relaxes and allows himself to be pressed back down onto the mattress. Then he begins to rock harder, riding Stiles just the way Derek wants it. He practically claws at Stiles’ chest as he throws his head back and fucks himself deep and steady. When he feels Stiles’ hand wrap around his aching cock, it’s too much, too perfect. He chokes on Stiles’ name and comes so hard it makes every nerve in his body sing.

“Oh _fuck_ yes,” he hears Stiles husk, then feels him fuck up in one last pounding thrust before following Derek over the edge. 

The bed, when Derek finally collapses onto it, smells amazing. Like him and Stiles and sweat and cum. He breathes it in with a contented sound, and Stiles chuckles breathlessly beside him. “I hope it won’t ruin your olfactory enjoyment too much if I go get something to clean us up with.”

Grumbling, Derek rolls his head on the pillow to squint at Stiles in a mock of his normal glare. “If you must.”

Stiles snorts and slides out of bed on wobbly legs. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll stink it all up again soon enough.”

That makes Derek hum in happy agreement and burrow his face in the pillow Stiles had been using. He plans to make sure their bed always smells of them and sex. Wait, _their_ bed? _His_ bed. Derek tells himself to slow the fuck down, that they have only just gotten together.

As Stiles returns with a warm, damp washcloth and proceeds to kneel on the bed and clean Derek up, Derek wonders if maybe it won’t be too long until his bed becomes theirs. Stiles leans over and kisses the triskele tattoo as he finishes, and Derek smiles into the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> (Bethanie was understandably confused and a little hurt at first. But the more she and Stiles talked it out, the more she realized that she'd kind of just assumed everything without any real indication from him that they were now in an actual relationship. Heck, they hadn't even kissed in months!
> 
> She then was concerned that this would mean she couldn't stay and potentially become part of the Pack. Stiles was quick to assure her that wasn't true and she was totally welcome to stay.
> 
> Eventually, she confessed she honestly felt a little relieved, because though she'd tried really hard to feel something for Stiles, there just wasn't that spark she'd always dreamed of having with her future spouse. Then they spent the rest of the night being buds and talked about how hot Derek is and she asked if Isaac was single. There was an argument about whether or not Isaac is a douche, and finally she kicked Stiles out with a "Oh, shut up and go blow your hot boyfriend, dweeb."
> 
> They are and will continue to be good friends.)


End file.
